


Easy-Going

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, space dorks in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Zoe allowed herself a moment to reflect on the circumstances that had led her to this, trapped between the wall of a very nice country house in an earth colony in the twenty-eighth century and the unconscious body of a spectacularly drunk Scotsman from the eighteenth.</i> Or, Jamie gets drunk and makes a pass at Zoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy-Going

_Oh, Zoe_ , the Doctor had said, _just help Jamie back to his room, will you. It’ll be no trouble, he’s very easy-going_. He’d smiled at her and heaved Jamie’s arm from his shoulders to hers, and now here they were, processing up a broad flight of stairs towards their guest suite, Jamie heavily leaning on her, _roaring_ drunk. So drunk he would intermittently forget how to use his feet, and continually forget where they were going and why.

“So there I was,” he slurred, “and there he was – and then I _punched_ him right on the nose!” He made an attempt at punching the air by way of demonstration and almost unbalanced them both. “Whoops!”

“Whoops,” Zoe repeated dryly. Jamie had been burbling away cheerfully all the way up the stairs. The latest ramble, best as she could glean, was either a story about something that had happened while he was travelling with Victoria, or, more likely, something that happened back in Scotland. It was difficult to tell. When he was this drunk his accent was nigh-indecipherable.

They reached the top of the stairs. Zoe paused to heave Jamie more upright and turn him about, then began to lead him down the passage.

“Where’re we going?” slurred Jamie.

“Your room,” Zoe said in her most patient tone.

“But we’re no’ in the TARDIS,” Jamie said, sounding puzzled.

That was a new response. Zoe wondered if he was getting drunker or sobering up. “Your guest room,” she said.

“Guest room?” he repeated. “A whole room just for me, eh?”

“Yes, a whole room for you,” said Zoe.

“Where is it?” Jamie twisted around, trying to look at all the doors at once.

“It’s just up here. I know where it is.”

“Aye, see,” said Jamie. “That’s why you’re the best.”

“Yes, I am,” Zoe agreed.

“You’re the best Zoe I know.” Jamie hiccupped softly.

“I’m the only Zoe you know,” Zoe reminded him. They were approaching his room. She slowed down lest a sudden stop unbalance him.

Then there was the tricky matter of getting the door open without Jamie falling over, which was no small feat. She had to sort of prop him against the wall and let him lean there, holding him in place with one hand while she opened the door with the other.

At last, they were inside. Zoe stepped into the room, dragging Jamie after her. He sort of rolled vertically through the doorway, coming to a rest slumped against the wall, where he stayed while Zoe adjusted the lights.

“There,” she said. “Your room. Your bed.” She turned to face him, which proved to be a mistake. He shifted, slumping to the side, and abruptly she found herself pinned between him and the wall. It was an awkward position, not least because he was supporting himself by leaning on her. She immediately set about trying to extricate herself, to no avail.

“Thanks,” he said. “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” said Zoe. “Now, go to bed.”

He did not go to bed. He stayed leaning on her, his face a scant few inches from hers. She’d set the lights down low, giving the room an odd orange glow. “You’re a ver’ pretty lassie,” he mumbled.

“Thank you,” said Zoe primly.

“You have beautiful eyelashes,” he droned on.

“You’re very sweet.” Zoe snaked an arm up to pat his shoulder, horribly aware that if she didn’t put a stop to this soon, tomorrow morning was going to be _painfully_ awkward.

Regrettably, Jamie took her attempt at a vague platonic gesture as an invitation, and made a move to kiss her.

Zoe turned her face away sharply, wrinkling her nose. It wasn’t that Jamie was entirely repulsive – he was a perfectly nice looking young man – but that right at the moment, he smelled mainly of whisky. “No,” she said.

“No?” said Jamie, plaintive.

“ _No_ ,” said Zoe in the firmest tone she could muster.

“Aww,” said Jamie. “If ye say so.” With that, he hiccupped one last time and passed out, slumping against her, his head falling to rest upon her shoulder.

Zoe allowed herself a moment to reflect on the circumstances that had led her to this, trapped between the wall of a very nice country house in an earth colony in the twenty-eighth century and the unconscious body of a spectacularly drunk Scotsman from the eighteenth. Then, with a sigh and an air of deepest resignation, she set about putting him to bed.

He wasn’t quite out cold, it transpired. He was awake enough to move his feet in a semi-helpful fashion when she tried moving him. She half-led half-dragged him the last six or so paces to his bed, then shoved him down upon it. 

She was tempted to leave him like that, face down amidst the sheets, but her head filled with all the nasty things that could happen to someone passed out drunk and she tried to make him more comfortable, shifting him into a safer position and kneeling by the bed to unlace his boots. 

His boots tucked under his bed, she stepped back to survey him, her arms folded. In a final maternal touch, she searched through the cupboard for a spare blanket and tucked him in. There. That would do. Pleased with her handiwork, she shut the door softly behind her and left him to sleep it off.

*

Zoe slept beautifully in what proved to be a very comfortable bed. The same could not be said for Jamie, judging by the positively foul state he was in at breakfast.

He grunted and gave her a half-hearted wave as she bounced into their drawing room. She served herself from the breakfast trolley and sat down opposite him. “Where’s the Doctor?”

Jamie shrugged. “Gone into yon town, I think.”

Zoe surveyed the table. “Are you not eating? That’s not like you.”

Jamie, faintly green, gave her breakfast a despairing look, and gestured vaguely at his coffee. He sipped it, winced, and spooned sugar into it, getting his spoon all crusty. “Sorry about last night,” he said, half-mumbling. “I don’t know what I was thinking, getting that drunk.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” said Zoe. “You passed out cold. I had to put you to bed.” She sipped her tea, taking in the despairing look in his eyes.

“Last night,” he said, more to his coffee cup than to her. “Did I – did we – last night,” he took a breath and finished his sentence in a flurry, “did I kiss you?”

“No,” said Zoe.

She saw his shoulders slump with relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“You tried your best, though,” Zoe said. She sipped her tea and relished his reaction. His looked at her, eyes widening with horror. At length, he groaned.

“Och, _no_ ,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You told me I was pretty and that I had beautiful eyelashes,” Zoe recounted, “and then you tried to kiss me.”

Jamie rested his face in his hands and groaned again. “Oh, _no_. I’m so _sorry_.”

“It’s alright,” said Zoe, suppressing giggles. He peered at her from between mortified fingers. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Really?” Jamie sounded honestly confused. Perhaps he thought he’d besmirched her honour, or something ridiculous like that.

“I told you not to and you stopped,” said Zoe. “Could have been worse.”

“‘Spose,” Jamie muttered. He buried his face in his hands again. “I don’t know what I was _thinking_.”

“Mmm-hmm?” Zoe cupped her hands around her tea cup.

“I don’t – not like that – I _don’t_ –”

“You know,” Zoe interrupted, “maybe it would be best we never spoke of this again.”

Jamie looked at her properly, his face a picture of gratitude. “Could we?”

“Gladly,” said Zoe. “Drink your coffee.”

He drank his coffee.


End file.
